Recollect It Wasn't Fair
by callmesandy
Summary: AU of s4 after Making Angels, everyone Peter knows is dead. And he has to go undercover as Olivia's husband.


not mine, no profit garnered. Thanks pb! Title and opening quote from REM's I Remember California. In this AU, Olivia will not be remembering the previous timeline.

 _History is made  
History is made to seem unfair_

 _I recall that you were there_  
Golden smile and shining hair  
I recall it wasn't fair  
Recollect it wasn't fair  
Remembering it wasn't fair outside

"You seemed really sure," Lincoln said.

Peter sighed. "I am sometimes a very very stupid smart guy. Honestly, I think it's inherited."

After whatever the other Astrid had said to Walter, they'd been talking, really getting along. Unfortunately for Peter's delusion, talking to Walter had made it clear that it didn't make sense with the actual evidence that Peter was in the wrong universe. There was nowhere to go home to. There was no Olivia waiting for him.

"It's basically like everyone I know is dead," Peter said.

"That's a cheery way to look at it," Lincoln said.

"Accurate, though," Peter said.

The only good thing Peter could see to come out of Peter and Walter's revelations was Peter deciding it was time to put down roots. He went to Broyles and made sure he got an ID and an existence, and custody of Walter back again. He'd even convinced Walter to move into the house.

"I feel like I should go back to the other side and tell Walter and my mother," Peter said.

"You could do that," Lincoln said. He tried to look cheerful.

"I might," Peter said. "Mostly, I am feeling a little lost."

Lincoln said, "So that means this Olivia is your Olivia."

"Not really," Peter said. "More like the identical twin separated at age 7 of my dead girlfriend. Which sounds like a soap opera."

"But accurate, though," Lincoln said.

"Why? You're feeling bad about dating her?" Peter leaned back on the couch and pushed the pizza box away with his foot. He and Walter should eat better, but pizza was still great. This Walter hadn't had his independence back enough to start cooking something other than desserts again, but Peter kept urging him to. They used to have frittatas and pasta.

"No," Lincoln said. "No, we're not."

"Okay. I'm in no place to offer any advice, the love of my life is functionally deceased and I'll never see her again," Peter said. "So I'm not getting mine out to pee a circle around her or something."

Walter came in, laughing. "Oh, are we talking about urinating?"

"And I need to go. Leave, I mean," Lincoln said. "It's nice to know you're staying around, Peter."

"Thank you," Peter said as Lincoln did indeed leave.

"I'm sorry," Walter said. "Were you two setting up a date? Did the me in your timeline ever tell you about the times I spent with Belly? Of course, in the 70s, who wasn't doing that sort of thing? And Belly and I used a fair amount of LSD. One time, Nina and Belly and I -"

"Let me stop you right there, Walter. Forever," Peter said.

He went to visit Charlie at the PT center. He watched Charlie taking his tentative steps down the room assisted by the physical therapist. Peter clapped when Charlie reached him.

"It's not that impressive," Charlie said.

"I'm impressed you're alive," Peter said.

"I love hearing that," Charlie said. The physical therapist had left them alone. "Please tell me more about how dead I was in your timeline."

"I prefer this one," Peter said. "I know you don't know me -"

"I didn't know you but you keep showing up," Charlie said.

Broyles had broken every single rule imaginable and as part of the detente after the Bridge sent Charlie over to the other side so their superior medicine could cure his paralysis. Broyles's argument had apparently been something like the other side's shapeshifters had caused Charlie to lose the use of his legs, therefore the other side should fix it. Peter had no idea how that argument had worked. But here was Charlie on his own two legs.

"Are you saying you're growing to like me?"

"You apparently made that Bridge, so I have to," Charlie said.

Peter had sadly explained the puncturing of his delusions his last trip to see Charlie. "I think I'm likable on the strength of my own personality," Peter said.

"I understand you think that," Charlie said. He was smiling, though.

Lincoln came over the next day after lunch. "You didn't come by the lab."

"I'm pouting," Peter said.

"It looks like it," Lincoln said. Peter was actually reading boxes of files. "Broyles told me he sent you some files you requested. Also, I thought maybe you were avoiding Olivia."

"You were not wrong," Peter said. "But I'll be over it soon enough."

"Got anything from those files?"

"A few things," Peter said. He'd been racking his brain to remember everything they'd uncovered about the ZFT. It hadn't played out the same way in this timeline, but maybe people who made bad choices in one timeline made different bad choices in this one.

He handed Lincoln the files he'd found that morning and explained them to him. It wasn't hard, Lincoln was smart and able.

It took him two days to go through everything.

It wasn't avoidance, he knew. It was grief. He was surrounded by walking talking reminders that once knew him. The other side's Broyles was alive here which was a good thing and Walternate was a better man. Astrid made a great agent out in the field. Charlie was alive and a father of two. To Peter, none of that made up for losing Olivia and Walter. He guessed he had to focus on the bright side of life since he was still alive somehow.

He'd wake up and for a moment believe there was still a chance and then remember. He didn't even have pictures. He had nothing but what he remembered. There was an echo in his head of someone saying something similar.

Then Walter would knock on his door or drop something and Peter would get up anyway.

Some things were different because he'd died that he just didn't understand. Violet Sedan Chair had a third album. The Pirates won the World Series in 1991. But the movies he sat down to watch were the same as he remembered, the fiction books the same. He wished his death at age 7 had had some affect on how the Celtics did and not the Pirates.

Olivia brought Walter home from the lab. Walter was crowing as he came in with a box. "Look at this, son. Olivia got me a housewarming present."

Walter put the box down and held up a large glass. "It's a set made for milkshakes!"

"I see you're very pleased," Peter said. "I take it you want to get to work on that right now?"

"Of course," Walter said. "Agent Dunham, you must stay. It shouldn't take me long."

"Not long means an hour," Peter said. Walter went into the kitchen. Peter hadn't moved from his spot on the couch. Olivia sat down across from him, in a chair Walter had insisted on bringing from the lab. This Olivia reminded him of Olivia when they first met, the intensity and the reserve. But she was still not the Olivia he knew.

"I don't have to stay," Olivia said.

"Do you think I don't want you to stay?" He didn't mind.

"I heard something about dead twins," Olivia said, almost smiling.

"Pillow talk?"

"No," she said. "And you know that."

"Maybe I was hoping for a yes," Peter said.

"Really?" She looked more confused than curious.

"People should be happy," Peter said. He shrugged and sat back. He supposed it made sense that the default assumption would be that he would transfer his want for his Olivia to this Olivia, but he didn't want an Olivia shaped person. He wanted the woman he'd spent three years of his life with. Apparently, that was all he would get of her.

Olivia asked him questions about David Robert Jones for 45 minutes while they waited for their milkshakes which were, naturally, very good.

He went into the lab the next day with Walter. Astrid found him while he was pouring himself coffee. She said, "I got you a gift." She handed it over. Then she said, "And now I'm hoping I'm right about your sense of humor."

He opened it. It was a book with sad dinosaur on the front and it was called "All My Friends Are Dead." He burst out laughing. "You were right," he said. "Thank you," he said, hugging her. Then he pulled back. "Sorry, you barely know me."

"It's okay, and it's not really barely. You've been here for three months, Peter," she said, smiling. "I'm glad you like the book."

He was flotsam and jetsam, detritus, a bump in the timeline. But he had his home and he made a home for Walter. It wasn't so bad. He tried to be positive. The people he knew were gone, but there were people here alive because he'd made the right choice. Charlie was alive. Olivia still had her best friend and partner. The other side was healing because of what he'd done.

Lincoln invited him to come along for drinks two nights later. Peter was pretty sure Lincoln had brought his two friends from the FBI, hoping Peter would hit it off with one of them. It was sweet but Peter walked home by himself, drunk and singing 'Row, row, row your boat' under his breath.

He stood over Walter's bed and said, "I can't believe you're asleep."

Walter opened his eyes and said, "I'm not now." He squinted at Peter. "You're very drunk, aren't you?"

"I don't know if I'd say 'very,' Walter."

Walter got up out of bed and walked 13 steps to the kitchen. "I did a study of the best meal to consume after getting intoxicated, alcohol only, mind you, you will need to tell me if you had anything else -" He grabbed bread and put a slice in the toaster.

"One slice lightly toasted sourdough bread," Peter said. "And also -"

Walter held up the mustard. "I told you," he said, smiling.

"You did," Peter said. He sat at the island and waited for his mustard slice.

While he was eating the torn off bits of bread ("recommended size is approximately 1.5 centimeters in length and 1 centimeter in width for each piece, depth of course dependent on the bread but hopefully at least 1 centimeter," Walter said) Walter watched him. He said, "Was I a good father to you?"

"Not really," Peter said. "Not until after St. Claire's. But you were pretty good after that." Peter smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry," Walter said.

"I'm good," Peter said. He fell asleep on the couch and woke up with a blanket over him. True to Walter's study, he had only a mild hangover.

Two weeks after he'd handed the files to Lincoln, Peter was summoned to the Federal Building. When he came in, Lincoln and Olivia were already seated. Olivia got up for a moment and handed him a cup of coffee. She smiled as she sat down, being polite. He was one of many people Olivia cared about, like any other helpful agent or consultant.

Broyles went right into his briefing. One of Peter's files had turned into a significant lead. The group slash cell had worked with Jones back in 2008 but had since broken off from him. They had kept up the evil mad scientist gig, just focused more on profit and evil than showing off or whatever ZFT's motives had been. That group was now stealthily recruiting.

Broyles said, "We'd like to use you, Peter, as bait. We've never had someone with your science background before."

"Sounds fun," Peter said. "Is there a catch?" He didn't think he was reading Broyles wrong and there was hesitation in his face.

"We constructed this cover a few years ago for a team, a two person team. So you would need to be married," Broyles said.

"Oh," Peter said. He would be pretending to be married to this Olivia, undercover. "I'll be fine. I appreciate the consideration."

The four of them plotted out the steps for the next month or two as they started email correspondence and created the legend. Broyles said, "Have you been undercover before?"

Peter smiled. "On the other side of undercover. I think you'd call that fraud?"

Lincoln said, "You were a con artist?"

Peter shrugged. "Basically. Trust me, I know how to lie and I can very easily pretend to be more interested in profit than people."

It was sweet that all three of them looked a little taken back. He missed Olivia fiercely for a moment, remembering her threatening him when they first met. Then he got back to work.

For the first month, all he had to do was answer emails and concoct evil formulas for toxic things. Peter didn't even need Walter for that, though he let him help. Naturally, they left out a crucial ingredient or two. Peter was clear in his emails that no one was getting those without a large payday.

Broyles summoned him to the Federal Building. "We're putting photos and traces of you in the system," he said. "Unfortunately, we don't have any to work from."

Peter grimaced. "Can we skip age 15 to 21? I don't ever need to see pictures of that face again."

"I wanted you to help the technicians as they apply the age regression software," Broyles said.

"You found me charming in my timeline," Peter said.

Broyles just glared at him. Peter said, "It was worth a try." Peter could have sweared Broyles almost smiled at that.

Olivia came by on a Saturday. Walter was out with Astrid, something Walter was incredibly excited about. Peter found it hard to imagine this Walter he hadn't known who never left the lab. Olivia and Astrid had both told him that Walter never felt safe outside the lab before now.

xvx

Olivia said, "Did you see the latest email?"

"Yeah," Peter said. She went past him into the house. She had brought Thai food which smelled good. "So you think we should have lunch."

"I think we're getting closer to an in-person meeting," Olivia said. She sat down and started eating pad thai. "Not next week, but in the next three weeks. So we need to start working on being convincing. As a married couple."

"Ah," Peter said.

"Did you ever do that for one of your frauds?" She raised an eyebrow which made him smile.

"Nope," he said. "If I needed a girlfriend, I would just get a girlfriend."

"Just go out and get one," Olivia said, nearly smirking.

"If you're only looking for someone who's willing to lie about how long you've been together, is fun to spend a week with, attractive and over 18, it's not that hard," he said.

She took a small black box out of her pocket. "Wedding rings. An engagement ring for me."

"Don't you work with your husband in the lab?"

Olivia nodded. He said, "So you wouldn't wear something that would catch on gloves if you're putting them on multiple times a day."

"No diamond for me," Olivia said, nodding again. She passed him the simple gold band.

He played with it for a minute, staring at it, before slipping it on.

Olivia said, "Were you ever married?"

"No," Peter said. "But, I think, I remember something from the machine. When I was in it. That Peter was married."

Olivia had her considering face on. Some things were the same. She said, "You never talk about being in the machine."

"I don't remember it," Peter said. "Mostly, I don't remember. There are things I sort of remember. I know Walter made it, I feel like some version of me was there when he was talking about it, what we had to do."

"That sounds disturbing," she said. He had a brief painful burst of seeing a version of Olivia dead on a morgue table.

He blinked a few times to reorient himself. "It is. So let's move on."

Olivia nodded again. She said, "We can expect when we meet them, they'll put us under extensive surveillance. They'll be watching for anything that seems off or wrong about the personas we're presenting."

Peter said, "They're extra paranoid, they've caught ATF and other FBI trying to infiltrate them."

"This is an important mission," Olivia said.

"They're not just bad guys doing evil things, they might still be in contact with Jones," Peter said.

"We have to appear like a happily married couple," Olivia said. She leaned towards him.

He realized what she was doing a split second before she kissed him. His stomach fell and his hands were cold. He managed not to stop her.

"Good thing we didn't do that for the first time with someone watching," Olivia said.

"Yup. Let's do that again," he said. By the fourth time, he'd moved past his memories and could pretend to enjoy himself.

"Thank goodness we have at least two more weeks for this," Olivia said. "I thought I'd spend the night. We should get used to each other that way."

"Absolutely," he said. "Let's make sure we tell Walter what is going on so he doesn't assume we're dating."

"You have the perfect dame for your undercover work," Walter said, glancing at Olivia.

Peter nodded his agreement. That was something else he liked about this timeline, that Walter and Olivia had their own relationship with their own jokes and stories. They had built something between themselves after the cortexiphan trials, which Olivia remembered in this timeline. That had to have made it harder for her, but he hadn't been interested enough to ask before. Now he was and it seemed rude to suddenly drill her about Walter and the times before he came out of the lake.

After the three of them watched three noir films Walter said were probably so essential they constituted research, Peter went back to his bedroom with Olivia following. She had an overnight bag with her. In every universe, Olivia Dunham took her job very seriously.

He took his usual side instead of the middle where he'd been sleeping. When he looked up to ask Olivia about which side she did prefer since he shouldn't assume, Olivia was naked with a determined look on her face. "Hi," he said.

"I'm just changing for bed, but you would be used to this." She gestured down. "I guess you probably are."

"I'm not used to you being naked," he said.

"Right," she said. She got dressed in pajamas. "Identical twin."

"That's a good metaphor, I think," he said. "Allegory? I'll ask Astrid which is the correct term. She was a linguistics major in this timeline, right?"

"Yeah," Olivia said. She got in next to him. She said, "Big spoon, little spoon, no spooning?"

He looked down at the book in his hands. A Raymond Chandler omnibus Walter had forced on him as he went upstairs. He said, "We can let it happen."

Olivia nodded. But she turned on her side away from him as she turned off the light.

When he woke up, everything was finally fine. Olivia was asleep under his arm and he could sleep in. He opened his eyes and remembered all over again. This was not his Olivia, everything was only okay. He got out of the bed without thinking about noise. He wanted to be alone and barring that, he wanted not to do this insane operation. He remembered Lincoln's fierce 'I lost my partner.' This was his universe now. He couldn't duck out on something so important.

He wanted a shower. He stripped and reached for his robe from the back of the door just as it opened up. Walter came in smiling.

"Knock first, Walter," Peter said, holding the door open for Walter. Then he grabbed Walter's arm and ushered him out of the room, closing the door. "Knock first and then wait for me to say come in."

"I just wanted to let you both know the frittatas will be ready in about five minutes. In five minutes," Walter said.

Peter looked over his shoulder at Olivia. She was awake, sitting up, and blushing. "The frittatas will be really good," he said, as he put on his robe.

"I can't believe Walter is cooking," she said, lightly.

"He studied under the guy who invented the Ho Ho," Peter said.

"I am going to ask him about that," Olivia said.

Olivia insisted on sleeping over most nights after that. Peter realized he no longer had to pretend to enjoy kissing this Olivia. They got used to seeing each other naked. "It's not like you haven't seen it all before," Olivia said.

"I keep saying this, but you're not the same person. Your bodies are different."

"How?" Olivia looked like she didn't believe him.

"You have different scars," he said. This Olivia hadn't been thrown from a car or hadn't been thrown the same way. "She didn't spend her teen years competing in dressage competitions. She did not have a tattoo. I can't believe you have a tattoo. When did you get it?"

It was a bird flying, in a few simple black lines. "I got it in college," Olivia said.

"Was the tattoo artist hot, or did you have another reason for that placement?"

She said, "She was hot, but I chose there because I already knew I wanted to work for the FBI and I wanted somewhere that wouldn't be too noticeable." It was on the inside of her left thigh.

"It's noticeable," he said. "But I get what you're saying."

"I won a few ribbons for dressage," Olivia said, smiling. She stopped smiling and looked somewhere slightly to his left. She said, "Did she shoot her stepfather?"

"Yes," Peter said. "Does he send you birthday cards, too?"

"No, I killed him," Olivia said, looking at him. "Birthday cards?"

"Good for you," Peter said forcefully. "Olivia didn't. And the asshole somehow survived, and sent her birthday cards every year until last year. It was fucking creepy."

"Sounds it," Olivia said. "Most people don't say that, 'good for you.'"

"Those people don't know you very well," Peter said. "Not that I do, but I know enough."

Finally, two months after they'd started working on this case, Peter and his wife, Lydia, were invited to Philadelphia to meet his would-be employers in person.

Olivia drove them down to Philadelphia. She said, "I didn't realize you had been spending so much time with Charlie."

"I'm very glad he's not dead," Peter said. "Let me guess, you also consulted with Charlie about how to be a convincing married person."

"He is one of the few I know. And actually, I asked Sonia," Olivia said. "It's not the kind of question I could ask Rachel."

"Because she's not happily married?"

"No, she is happy," Olivia said. "Rick's a great guy."

"Rick? Not Greg?"

Olivia glanced at him. "I don't think Rachel's even dated a Greg."

"But you have a niece Ella?"

"And a nephew Eddie," Olivia said. "Actually I knew Rick first, he was two years behind me at Georgetown."

"You didn't go to Northwestern?" He was astonished how much he'd just assumed was the same. Olivia and Rachel had been informally adopted by Nina Sharp here, of course her life was different. There was a degree of wealth and privilege his Olivia had never had.

"No, I went to Georgetown," Olivia said. "And you went to MIT for your two doctorates."

Peter smiled. "Okay, I lied about one thing when I was talking about my background. I swear, it's the only thing I lied about."

"You didn't get two doctorates?" Olivia glanced at him again, clearly surprised.

"I dropped out of high school when I was 16," Peter said. "I was a senior and only had a semester to go, but I really really wanted to be in South Carolina for the winter. I honestly don't remember what so important about it. And then I never went back to school. I was at MIT, briefly. I faked a degree from the University of Edinburgh and attended MIT as a doctoral candidate for three months. I taught classes, I got papers published and then, honestly, I just wanted out so I quit and they found me out. Walter always gave me shit about it, so I lied about the doctorates."

"You faked your way into grad school," Olivia said. She was smiling. "That sounds like a punishment, not a thing you'd want to do."

"I wanted to prove I could do it and then I was enjoying the work. Until I wasn't," Peter said. "I liked the teaching."

Olivia shook her head. "You didn't lie about anything else? You swear."

"I did not lie about anything else," Peter said.

"When Broyles created your new ID and existence, did he also give you a degree from MIT?"

"No," Peter said. "Didn't you hear all this? I am officially the bastard child of Walter Bishop, born in Ireland in 1978, moved to the US in the 80s, went to the University of Melbourne, and the FBI is not as good at faking degrees as I am, so no doctorates."

"I didn't realize you were so international. Also, you don't sound very Irish."

He said, in an impeccable Dublin accent, "My Irish accent is fantastic, thank you very much."

"But not a trace of it, normally," Olivia said.

"According to Broyles, it's easier that way, to say the records came from another country. There aren't actually birth records, you understand. But it's not supposed to be something that stands up to a lot of scrutiny."

"Good thing," Olivia said. "What do you even know about the University of Melbourne?"

"I've been to Australia," he said. "Not Melbourne, actually. But again, it's not supposed to be airtight." He looked over at her. "Georgetown, huh?"

"Yes," she said. "But I think we should probably go over our stories again."

"You don't want to be too rehearsed," Peter said. "Aren't you suspicious when people's stories line up word for word?"

"Fine," Olivia said.

"Are you nervous?"

She said nothing for a few moments. Then she said, "Yes. Also, it's all so ridiculous. I can't believe we practiced simulating sex."

"Better than being method," Peter said.

"I agree," she said. "But it's still … weird."

"It's also better than getting shot in the head," Peter said. Which was this group had done to the ATF agents they'd discovered. Then he said, "I can't believe Rachel is happily married. I am calling that another plus in the rewritten timeline count."

"Along with Charlie being alive," Olivia said.

"And you killing your stepfather, a third Violet Sedan Chair album, the other side healing from the damage Walter and I did," Peter said.

"You didn't do anything, you were 7," Olivia said.

Peter looked out the window for the next 50 miles.

Olivia said, "I'm less likable than your timeline's Olivia, right?"

"No, and why are you even asking that?"

Olivia shrugged. "I just wondered, the way you talk about her, how you miss her."

Peter said, "No, you aren't less likable."

"She sounds like a happy person," Olivia said.

Peter fiddled with his fake wedding ring. He said, "I think we made each other happy. Please don't make me do this."

"Sorry," Olivia said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm fine," he said.

They got into the hotel and went to their room. Peter sat on the bed and took out his tablet. "Hey, babe, I know you won't believe this, but I have to show you this cat video."

"I don't believe it," Olivia said, but she sat down next to him.

"Here we go," Peter said. He cued an actual cat video that played on the top of the screen, on the bottom were the locations of the cameras in the room. One over the bed, one aimed on the door to the bathroom.

Olivia nodded and started laughing. "Okay, this is actually funny."

"We have nothing to do until dinner," Peter said.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Olivia said. They ended up under the covers, simulating sex. It was less than sexy. Peter had been a little worried it would be awkward or more stimulating but instead Olivia was making goofy faces under him, her face hidden from the camera. She made ridiculous sex noises while he was thrusting into the air two inches over her. He stuck his tongue out at her and made orgasm sounds. Olivia wiggled out of her underwear and got out of the bed. "So I am going to shower and you are welcome to join me."

"I'm good," Peter said, leaning back against the headrest and turning on the TV.

The restaurant they were meeting their targets in was within walking distance of their hotel. Olivia said, "Are you nervous?"

"Of course," Peter said. "But we should be okay."

"You convinced me and Broyles that you had gone to college, so I know you can do this," Olivia said.

Peter said, "Ha ha." They sat down and waited. He said, "Maybe they're not coming."

"They're coming," Olivia said, firmly.

She was right. Two nondescript white guys in expensive but not well-fitted suits came in and sat down across from them. It was less of a meeting than an interrogation. Both men weren't really great at interrogating, but what they lacked in ability they made up in blunt persistence.

One of the men brought up the human cost, clearly checking to see if either Peter or his supposed wife had a conscience.

"My wife and I have worked hard all our lives unlike a lot of people," Peter said. "We deserve to be compensated." Olivia nodded. It seemed to work. Bad Suit One said they should all meet up tomorrow for a real demonstration.

"First hoop successfully jumped through," Olivia said, on the walk back.

"Or they want to kill us in private at their own place instead of a public restaurant," Peter said.

"Please stop being so positive," Olivia said.

When they got back to the hotel, they watched a movie and cuddled until they fell asleep. Peter woke up at 2 am and the TV was still on HBO. He had no idea what movie was playing. He wondered if it was specific to this timeline or if he was just watching something deservedly obscure. Olivia shifted in her sleep, her arm tightening on his chest. He turned off the TV.

When Olivia woke up she got on top of him and said, "We never have time for this at home."

She was balanced on his thighs bouncing up and down. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands. Olivia grabbed his hand so he was cupping her breast. She mouthed it's okay. He traced circles around her nipple. The whole thing felt significantly less ridiculous all of a sudden. Olivia leaned forward into his hand. They both faked their way to the end.

Olivia insisted they shower together. Covered by the water, she said, "Sorry if I freaked you out."

"No, I'm fine," he said. "It's fine."

They went to see the Liberty Bell. It actually was pretty cool even if Peter felt like a gawking 3rd grader.

Then they took a cab to the facility the bad guys were renting. Peter brewed up one of the poisons he and Walter had created. Olivia was a great assistant. They demonstrated on a papaya. "The friendliest of fruits," Peter mumbled. "Takes three minutes to take effect." The papaya's skin started to melt. "We can fiddle with that to get the victim farther away from the scene of the crime." He held up a syringe and said, "Also a counter agent that just needs to be administered before the time is up, so ransom is a possibility."

"Convenient aerosol," Bad Suit One said. He sprayed Olivia in the face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Peter quickly cleared the air from the syringe and plunged it in Olivia's upper arm. He wiped her face with a cloth and pulled her against his chest. This was all wrong, everything about it was wrong. "Fuck you, we're gone."

Peter patted Olivia's hair and glanced at his watch.

Bad Suit Two said, "Calm down. You had the counter agent right there."

"Calm down? You tried to kill my wife, you assholes," Peter said. Olivia had finally stopped trembling and he held her even closer. "Okay, three minutes, you didn't kill my wife, so we're leaving right now."

He started to walk out. Olivia stopped. She said, "Peter."

Both Bad Suits moved towards the door. One said, "How much do you want to stay?"

Peter said, "You almost killed my wife." He tugged on Olivia's hand. She looked at him, almost glaring.

Bad Suit Two said, "How does five million sound?"

Olivia said, "Peter."

Peter said, "Don't you come at my wife ever again or no amount of money will stop me from killing you."

"We'll see you tomorrow, then," Bad Suit One said.

"Yes," Olivia said. She pulled Peter out the door.

They walked for nearly ten minutes until Peter let go of her hand. He squatted down by the edge of the road, on the verge of throwing up. He rubbed his face until the feeling went away. Olivia rubbed his back. She said, "Are you okay?"

"Someone tried to kill you," he said. He stood up. "We should stop this, now."

"No," Olivia said. "We're making progress."

Peter touched her cheek. "Seriously, none of this is worth you dying."

"Thank you," she said. She patted his chest. "I think we can do this."

They had wandered to a street with cafes and laundromats and a baby clothes thrift store. "I need a drink," Peter said.

They went into a coffee house. She and Peter sat in a corner with their coffees, sadly without even a trace of alcohol. He rubbed his forehead. She said, "Tell me about your cons."

"Really?" He looked at her.

"I want to know," she said. He looked at her hand holding her coffee. She had a tight grip on the coffee. She was pale and trembling.

"Okay," he said. "Let me tell you about this one time in Iraq." He told her three more stories until she was genuinely laughing.

He said, "Your turn. Tell me about dressage."

"You are really fixated on the horseback riding," she said.

"It's interesting," he said. Olivia started talking about dressage and explaining the intricacies of how it worked. She was hilarious imitating the horses she rode.

When they got back to the hotel, he pulled her close. "I am not kidding," he said in the corridor. "We can go home now."

"Can you do this?"

"Yes," he said. "Do we really have to?"

"We've seen how dangerous they are," she said. Olivia would never back down.

"Okay," he said. They went inside. He dreamed of the morgue from his vision/memory and Olivia with his magic poison wet on her face. It was more of a nightmare, but he only woke up sad, not frightened or disturbed.

In the morning, Peter insisted on leaving the hotel for breakfast. He wanted out from the cameras. As they ate, Olivia said, "What do you think happens today?"

"I think they're nice to us," he said.

"I agree," Olivia said. "We need to get them to hire us."

"I think we're pretty close," Peter said.

They were indeed nicer that day. Peter and Olivia did their thing again and the Bad Suits told them tomorrow they would make an offer. Probably.

By 3pm Peter and Olivia were sitting at another coffee place. Olivia said, "Did you ever go undercover with her?"

"Yes," Peter said, smiling. He told her about the many nippled creature and taking down Conrad.

"You were in love," Olivia said.

"Completely," Peter said. "I wouldn't have admitted it at the time, I don't think I was that self-aware."

"But you were," Olivia said. "Was she?"

Peter shrugged. "I doubt it. John had just died, I don't think she was thinking about anyone that way."

Olivia looked down. She fidgeted with her fake wedding ring. "That makes sense," she said.

"Sorry," Peter said.

"It was three years ago," Olivia said.

"Tell me about Flight 627," Peter said. "How did you get started with Walter? Did you remember him from the cortexiphan trials?"

Olivia told him all about how it started. It wasn't the same story but with less Peter, it was an altogether different story where Olivia barreled ahead, determined, resolute. He'd told Olivia he didn't want to do comparisons, but he couldn't help noticing where this Olivia was stronger, or more unflinching. She was somehow more reckless. He also thought she'd been and was much more solitary.

They watched another movie while basically cuddling in bed. His phone buzzed. "Hey, bro," Peter said.

"Hey bro to you," Charlie said.

"Have you heard about that contracting job you bid on? I thought you said you would know tomorrow," Peter said.

"Not until tomorrow," Charlie said. "I'll hear from the big guy first and then I promise to call you since you're so obsessed with my work."

"Right, it's weird that the little brother wants his big brother to do well, what a strange unreal monster I am," Peter said, smiling. "Talk to you later."

Olivia smiled at him. He'd passed on the message.

The next morning, they waited at the facility with Bad Suit One and Two who were nervous. Peter said, "You said we were waiting on someone. Were you lying?"

"He's coming," Bad Suit One said.

Just then the door burst open, a man being pushed forward by another man who had a gun to his back. Peter and Olivia ducked down behind the counter. "I saw you two," one of the men said. "You're next after these three."

There were shots exchanged, wildly loud. Peter grabbed at the supplies in the cabinet next to him. He needed a weapon, he needed more than one. Peter had hit his panic button the minute he'd seen the gun but he had no idea when the cavalry was coming. He heard more shots. Olivia had her gun out and was moving slowly towards the door, still crouched down. He'd heard two bodies fall. He peeked around the corner and saw Bad Suit One on the floor with his face blown out.

The guy with the gun said, "I've killed these three. Your turns."

"Why?" Peter didn't have to fake his desperation. "We barely saw you. I promise we won't tell."

"I'm here to eliminate dangling threads for my boss. You two are dangling," the man said.

"No, we're really not," Peter said. "Maybe your boss is hiring? That's why I was here. I'm good with stuff."

"Stuff," the man said, laughing. "Mr. Jones isn't hiring."

Peter said, "Are you sure?"

The man rounded the island. He had his gun trained right on Peter's head. The man said, "Put down the bottles, Dr. Willicks."

Peter put both bottles down. He wondered where Olivia was. He wondered if she would stop this in time.

"Tell me where your wife is," the man said.

"I have no idea," Peter said.

Peter heard the two loud shots as blood exploded from the man's legs. The man fell forward. Olivia was standing behind him. "He said Mr. Jones," Peter said.

"I didn't shoot anything vital," Olivia said. She came forward and kicked the man's gun away. Peter checked the man's pulse.

"He's alive," Peter said.

"Oh, good," Olivia said. "You have, uh, there's blood on you."

As she said it, he realized his face was wet. Peter got up and found a wipe to get it all off.

The FBI came in, Peter and Olivia answered questions and gave Broyles and Lincoln the recordings they'd done on their phones.

Olivia pulled him away. "We get one more night in the hotel," she said. "Let's go."

Peter stepped up onto the bed and removed the camera above the bed. He took down the camera facing the bathroom as well. He turned both off and threw them in an evidence bag.

"You seemed rattled," Olivia said. "Lincoln said you were cool as a cucumber on the other side even with the all people who shot at you."

Peter sat on the bed. He reached for the remote and turned on HBO. "I am rattled," he said. "I was rattled."

"Ever since the spray," Olivia said.

"Basically," Peter said. "On the other side I was mostly worried about myself. And I was sure I would make it. I had leftover confidence from when I was convinced I wouldn't die until I got in the Machine. I guess I thought nothing in this universe could hurt me. But this universe is my universe now."

"Even if you were rattled, you did great," Olivia said.

"Thank you," he said. He watched the screen for a minute. "Have you ever seen this movie?"

Olivia looked up. "Yeah, everyone's seen that one. When I was in high school."

"That is weird," Peter said. "I never saw this. I have never heard of it."

"We should watch it from the start," Olivia said. She stripped down to her tanktop and underwear and got under the covers.

He meant to say that they didn't have to do this anymore. Instead he laid down next to her, let her rest against his chest.

He'd never seen the movie before, and it had been popular enough even Olivia could recite lines. She said, "I actually had a crush on him," referring to the twentysomething actor playing 16.

"Was he in anything else?"

"A bunch of movies, I think. Now he does TV. I don't follow his career," Olivia said.

Peter grabbed his tablet and looked him up on IMDB. He'd never heard of anything this guy had done even though there were horror movies by directors Peter liked, and one that had been nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars. "I swear, he never became an actor in my timeline. This is so weird. I don't understand how Walter and I could have had that kind of influence on what happened."

"You can marathon everything with Walter," Olivia said. "I'm sure he'd love to figure out exactly what change in the timeline made an entire movie career."

"I hope you're being serious, because that's completely true," Peter said.

"Mmm, I was," Olivia said. She was already half-asleep. Peter turned off the tv and lights. If he dreamed he didn't remember any of it.

After they started their drive back to Boston, Peter said, "Ring's off, do I hold onto it for the next time I see Broyles?"

Olivia said, "Just put it in the armrest there, I'll put it with mine." He just then noticed her ring was gone. He had no idea when she'd removed hers. He felt idiotic for a moment, he really had expected her to react differently. He had expected her to react like he apparently was, like acting married had made him feel connected to her.

"You never again have to wake up with Walter," Peter said.

"I bet that's not true at all," she said. "Walter gets around."

"You think you're going to end up dating my father?"

She laughed. "I don't know, I've seen him naked. He's in great shape for his age."

"Don't I know it. In excruciating detail," Peter said. "Okay, while we have this endless drive stretching out ahead of us, I need to get your full biography since I've learned at least half of the things I know about you are wrong."

"And you need to do the same, I need to place all those cons in the proper context of your age," Olivia said.

"Youth doesn't explain or excuse any of it," Peter said.

Peter lugged his bag into the house. Walter was overjoyed to see him. "Did you make something for me? I was making bets in my head," Peter said.

"I did," Walter said, almost jumping. "I made apple fritters. Astrid was helpful, but I went beyond her pedestrian recipe."

"But not with anything that would get me in trouble, right, Walter?" Peter looked dubiously at the covered plate on the dinner table.

"I don't know what you mean by trouble," Walter said.

"Drugs," Peter said. "Did you put any drugs or chemical enhancements in there?"

"Not at all," Walter said. "Though I find the phrase chemical enhancements far too broad and vague."

"I agree," Peter said. "But I find very broad is the best way to find out the truth with you." He smiled at Walter as he sat down at the dinner table. The fritters were pretty good. "How were you when I was away?"

"Fine," Walter said. "Were you expecting me to revert to someone just out of the asylum?"

"Not at all, but it would make sense if you missed me or something," Peter said. He'd had regular reports from Astrid in the form of spam emails so he knew it had been mostly fine. He just wanted to check Walter's perception of that.

"I did miss you," Walter said. "None of the FBI agents were as interesting to talk to."

"That isn't their job, you know. Especially not at 2 am," Peter said.

"They're just sitting out there making sure no one gets in and I don't leave. You'd think they'd be interested in stimulating conversation," Walter said.

At 1 am he opened the door to Olivia. "You texted," he said.

"You were up," she said. She was in her winter coat, with sweats and what looked like a t-shirt on underneath. If he wasn't mistaken, her bag was over one shoulder. She said, "I couldn't sleep without you." She smiled nervously.

"Well, you can -"

"Peter," she said, stepping forward. "I'm hitting on you."

"Oh," he said. "I'd missed that." He pulled her inside by her waist and closed the door with the other hand.

They kissed groped stumbled up the stairs. He wanted nothing more than to spend the next forty years touching her, cataloguing her freckles, mapping her scars. Olivia said, "Your room would be good. We should get inside your room."

"Excellent point," Peter said. He pulled her in and closed the door. He leaned against it as he got off his pants and shirt. He was incredibly pleased to see Olivia had come over not wearing any underwear.

The first time was fast and hard. They laid on the bed, catching their breath. Olivia was looking at him fondly, a fine sheen of sweat almost glowing on her. He said, "You are really bad at faking sex noises. Now that I've heard what you actually sound like, I wanted to let you know, you are really bad."

"Well, so're you," she said. "I was, I really had to force myself to come over. I was thinking of all the reasons this was a bad idea or how I would fuck it up like with everyone I've dated."

"But then you thought I was different?"

"No, I thought I'll worry about it tomorrow. I can feel bad later. First, come over here."

"Good plan," he said. He spread her legs to kiss her tattoo. And other things.

Two hours later Peter fell asleep, sore and exhausted and very happy. Olivia actually fell asleep first, smiling like he hadn't seen her, not in this timeline.

He dreamt of the other Olivia. Not the one in his bed. He knew it was her even before he noticed the Northwestern t-shirt. She said, "You have a type." She looked pleased, he thought.

He said, "I think of it more like a spectrum," and she put her finger up to his lips to shush him. She was happy. Of course, he thought, it was his dream, she would always approve of anything if he was the one imagining it.

He woke up happy anyway. Olivia rolled over onto him. She said, "I feel good. You make me feel good. And I know you care about me and you're not seeing her because you were so repulsed the first time we kissed."

"I wasn't repulsed," Peter said. "I was surprised and depressed."

"You looked like you were going to throw up," Olivia said.

"But now I see you and I am not throwing up," he said.

Olivia looked at him fondly and he absolutely had to kiss her.


End file.
